


The Hair of the Dog

by highflyerwings



Category: Actor RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Crack, Gen, Noiring, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:44:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highflyerwings/pseuds/highflyerwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a prompt.  I asked for a pairing, a city, and a season, and someone gave me: J2 -- Lahaina, Maui -- sex on the beach -- doesn't matter what season 'cause it's always hot and sunny and sand will inevitably get... everywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hair of the Dog

It was a Thursday night.  Late.  At a hazy bar, in Lahaina, Maui.  He’d suggested we go out for drinks.   _Sure.  Why not_.  His skin was still warm from the sun that afternoon.  Or it would have been, I imagined.  And his hair was soft and shaggy, flopping in his eyes like a goddamn dog's.  And I gave in because that was my problem.   _He_  was my problem.  That stupid sonofabitch with his floppy hair, and that smile that lit up a room brighter than the Hawaiian sun and...Listen to me.  This is what he turns me into.  A goddamn dame.  
  
He decided this was the place to go.  This hotel.  This beach.  This bar.  All his idea.  All  _I_  can remember is the heat.  That goddamn heat.  The kind of heat that makes you lazy and relaxed, but just this side of uncomfortable.  A nagging itch that keeps at you until you give in and melt into your chair at the end of the day.  
  
Which is exactly where we were.  
  
Four beers and three shots in, his hair flopping in his eyes, and he lifted his arm and signaled our waitress over.   _Our waitress_.  Legs that wouldn’t quit and a smile sweeter than pie.   _Yeah.  She came over alright_.  She wiggled and cooed, and when the sasquatch next to me said “Hey, sweetheart, I’d like a Sex on the Beach,” that sweet little girl batted her eyes and said ‘sure thing,’ none the wiser.  
  
Little did she know, it was only the beginning.  
  
She brought it back with that same smile, and a tiny little umbrella to go along with it.  And that’s where she left us.  Left  _me_.  Left me to deal with the fallout.  Because that’s where this always leads.  To trouble and regret, wishing like hell we’d never got here, and thanking the gods that we did.  And that’s when he leaned over.  Halfway through his Sex on the Beach and he murmured in my ear, his voice sweeter than that waitress’ smile.  
  
“Jensen?”  
  
“Yeah?” I said.  
  
“I have sand in my shorts.”


End file.
